The Spook's Niece
by Inkmad567
Summary: When Mr. Gregory dies, Tom becomes the new Spook.So what happens when he has to go to war, leaving Alice and Mary,Jack and Ellie's daughter,age 14, to fend for themselves? I mean, Alice is tough and all, but still. Read on to find out!
1. 1st Chapter

**A/N: Hi! This is my first story. It's set twelve years after The Spook's Nightmare, from Mary's POV (Mary's Ellie and Jack's daughter, if you didn't know.) I do not own The Wardstone Chronicles or any characters in it, only the ones I created in this fanfic!**

The sun streamed in through the window, creating an almost physical wall of silvery dust motes that swirled and danced wildly as I stretched and yawned. The dust settled as the household began to wake up. The front door quietly opened and shut, as Da slipped out to do the early morning farm work. Uncle clumped down the stairs, waking Conor and the twins up. The ensuing wails awakened the rest, and the next few minutes were a cacophony of moans, sighs and various other noises created by a large and extended family reluctantly waking up. I smiled to think that in the short space of a week my apprenticeship to Mrs. Drumnore would start, and I would be freed from this never-ending noise for good. Oh, to have a morning of peace and contentment lasting more than a few seconds! What utter bliss! I vowed to savour every precious moment of it.

Breakfast was the same battle of noise, the twins screaming, Conor and Tommy absorbed in a food war with Anna, Grace and May, and the rest of the family making enough noise for an orchestra. I sighed. Was I the only one in this house who didn't feel the need to endlessly shout and scream? Probably. Da came up behind me, and put his hands on my shoulders.  
>"You're all ready to get away from this, eh, love? he said. He was smiling, but I could tell he was only trying to hide his sadness.<br>"It _is_ starting to do my head in a bit," I admitted " But I'll come back often, so don't worry about that!" I hated lying to Da, but I couldn't tell him how I really felt. It was better to keep his hopes up.  
>"You're a good girl, Mary. I don't know what we'd have done without you when your Mam... passed away. This family's probably going to fall apart when you leave on Monday."<br>"Are you sure you don't want me to stay, Da? I don't really mind." Yet another lie spouted from my lips. I had better be careful, or this would become a regular habit.  
>"No, no, of course not! I couldn't keep you here at home! Goodness, Mary, sometimes I think you forget I can take care of my own family!" he laughed.<br>Our conversation was rudely interrupted by Tommy sliding across the table, and knocking me and my chair over. I flew backwards, landing with a jarring thud on the floor, and seconds later Tommy crashed down on top of me. I groaned. Luckily for me, these incidents were rare, only happening every, let's say, two weeks.  
>"Oh, Mary, I'm so sorry! It wasn't my fault! The girls pushed me!" Tommy rushed, sitting up with a terrified look on his nine-year-old face.<br>"Did _not_!" Anna, Grace and May chorused indignantly.  
>"Did too!" Tommy and Conor shot back.<br>"Now, children, could you leave the bickering until after breakfast, please?" Aunt Jane said, with a pained look on her face.  
>"Are you hurt, love?" Da asked, holding out his hand.<br>"No, Da, just a...little winded, that's...all." I reassured him, taking his hand and getting up slowly. I winced, as my back complained loudly. Tommy slunk around to the other side of the table, and resumed the food fight.  
>"Why don't you go for a walk, stretch out that back and get away from any other disasters waiting to happen?" Uncle suggested with a glance at my warring siblings.<br>"Yes, that's a good idea. I'll warn your brothers and sisters not to bother you, so you can have some peace and quiet." Da said. I smiled, silently thanking Tommy for crashing into me. Who cared if my back hurt? I was going to take the longest walk I could.

I strolled through the field, keeping my distance from Hangman's Hill. Uncle had told us many fireside tales about that place, not that I believed them, but there was still something about the grey-green mound looming on my right that gave me the chills.  
>I walked on, until I was as far away from the house as I could get without it disappearing from view completely, then flumped down in the grass and basked in the warm sun, eager to use every moment of my free time, sure that any moment it would be interrupted by someone, or, more probably, some<em><em>ones, <em>_ignoring Da and racing up to confront me with some problem or argument-settling question. I knew I should probably I lay back and gazed up at the azure sky, the gloriously warm summer's day lulling me into a half-sleep and, although I didn't yet know it, a completely false sense of security.


	2. Whoa

**A/N: Well, I've kept you in suspense for…what? A week? Anyway, here's that disclaimer I hate… "deep breath" I don't own the copyrights to the Wardstone Chronicles, or any of its characters, only whoever I create, or have created, for this story. (Why? "on knees" Whyyyyyyyy?)****Anyway, here's the chapter! R&R please!**

**Mary's POV**

I sat up with a start, wondering for a second why I'd woken, then feeling guilty when I realised the sun was setting. Idiot! What had I been thinking, falling asleep when I was supposed to come home in an hour? Da would be so worried.  
>That thought sent me scrambling up and running back to the house. I was halfway there when I heard a noise, and instantly remembered<br>what had woken me. It was the unmistakable sound of screams. I froze for a second, then sprinted towards the house.

I could smell smoke before I got there, and the screams were getting louder and more frantic. Coming round the back of the sheds, I stumbled over a plank of wood and smashed into the ground face-first. I scrambled up, and stared in horror at the scene unfolding in front of me.

The house was completely engulfed in flames. Da and the rest of the family were surrounded by a group of...witches! My family were being kidnapped by witches! Uncle lunged desperately as a screaming May was dragged off, and was pummelled into the ground by three of _them_. I winced, and anger flared within me. Who was I to watch as my family were attacked by witches? Who were they, to even _try_? I was about to run out from my hiding-place, when Da saw me. His eyes widened, and then he frowned at me, shaking his head. One of the witches noticed him, and looked in my direction. I stumbled back into the shadows, and Da kicked her savagely. Da could kick hard (I'd once seen him kick a dead rat into the pond two fields down), and the witch howled in pain. About five of them jumped on him, and Uncle joined the fight. One of the other witches, old and wizened, took out what looked like a badly-made doll and stamped on it. Da screamed, and the witches backed off. One of them dragged Da up, and he flumped in her arms, unconscious. Jack was subdued again, and the group moved off, the little ones tear-streaked and terrified, while the three adults, one unconscious, one looking defeated, and aunt Jane shackled and seemingly resigned to her fate, were in no position to comfort them. They were all loaded onto a cart, and it sped off, obviously enhanced with witchcraft. By the time I'd gathered the courage to come out into the yard, they'd disappeared.

All the rage and anguish that terror had subdued surfaced, filling me to the brim. I screamed blue murder in the yard, kicking everything in my way in frustration, putting all my pain and fury into each kick, vowing with all my being that I would track the witches down and make them pay for kidnapping _my_ family and destoying _my_ home. How dare they?How _dare_ they?  
>Suddenly, I realised I wasn't the only one screaming. Someone was still in the house. In my head, I ran over in my head who I'd seen carried off, and it hit me. Conor! Conor was still in the burning house, and here I was, having a tantrum like a small child!<br>I ran to the front door, then changed my mind, and ran round the back instead, where the door had been broken off this Spring and never replaced. I held my sleeve over my nose and mouth, and tried to run in, but the smoke overwhelmed me, and I stumbled out, coughing. Hearing a noise from above, I looked up to see Conor shoving the window open. He leaned out, choking and retching. I ran to the barn, and rolled one of the newly-harvested hay bales over to the window. I found a scythe, and slashed it open, the hay falling in a mound.  
>"Jump!" I yelled up to Conor.<br>"What?" he coughed, not wanting to risk his life jumping out of a window, even if it meant escaping the fire. Sometimes his sense could be helpful, but this was not that time.  
>"Jump or die!" I screamed. He hesitated for a second, then put his foot on the windowsill, leaned out, and jumped. The hay was just in the right place, and he landed safely. I let out the breath I hadn't known I was holding, and realised blood was running down my face from when I'd fallen earlier. Conor and I stared at each other, and then he collapsed.<br>"Why now, Conor? Urgh." I groaned, running off to the pump. I splashed my face to clear the blood off, and filled a bucket, carrying it back to throw on Conor. He sat up, minature fires on his clothes going out, and his face was so comical I started laughing. He stared at me as I sat down, my laughter turning to tears, unable to breathe. I sat there and tried to gulp air in between racking sobs . After a few minutes I calmed down enough to remember Conor, and was about to apologise, when he hugged me. Pleasantly surprised, I smiled down at him. He hadn't hugged me since he was seven or eight. Eleven-years-old was far too old for hugging, or so he said.  
>"I-I just...don't ever leave me on my own again, promise?" he sniffed.<br>"Uh, well..." I was about to explain the difference between_ leaving_ and nearly being kidnapped, but thought better of it. "I promise."

**A/N: So there you have it, the 2nd chapter! Hey, I'm good at this writing lark, aren't I? What? Arrogant? Moi? ;D Yet again, R&R!**


	3. Aha!

**A/N: Hi, back again! This will be a kinda short chapter, because I want to reveal something at the end (It kinda already says it in the summary, but the characters don't know that, do they?) and I'm not very good at filling in the blank bit in between. Sorry.**

**Mary's POV**

By the next morning, the fire had burned itself out, so we entered the shell of the house, and tried to salvage what we could. Being inside the house felt a bit like intruding on a funeral, and we found ourselves creeping around, trying to avoid touching anything. Not that there was much to avoid. The only useful things we could find were the dress, shirt and shoes out of the big old wardrobe in the stone alcove, and one of the pails we used for getting water from the pump in the yard. We didn't go upstairs, for fear of the whole house collapsing.  
>"So...this is goodbye, house." I sighed. Conor stared at me.<br>"What? We're leaving? Where are we going?" he asked.  
>"You didn't think we were going to <em>live here<em>, did you?" I raised an eyebrow, while trying not to let on that I really didn't have a clue where we'd go next. I supposed I hadn't thought about it. All I knew was that we couldn't live here in the blackened remains of our home, with the ghost of what had happened the day before.  
>Conor shrugged, embarrassed. "Well, I didn't think about it yesterday, what with everything else going on. And where exactly <em>are <em>we going to live, as you've thought about it oh so much?" I blushed, and glared at him. Why did he have to know the inner workings of my mind, or at least pretend to? Was it _such_ a necessity?  
>"I'll...think of something soon." I hoped so, anyway. I sat down to wrack my brains, and was immediately interrupted by a shout. Our neighbours had finally noticed the charred house, and had come to investigate.<br>"Well, here comes the Spanish inquisition." I sighed. Conor looked at me questioningly.  
>"What's the-"<br>"What in God's name happened here? Where's your father? Your uncle? Why are you the only two here? What _happened_?" I wasn't sure who was saying what, but George Dowse, a friend of Da, was standing beside me, so I turned to him.  
>"Witches," I said. My voice sounded small and croaking, so I cleared my throat and spoke as loud as I could. "Witches came yesterday evening, and took everyone else. They set the house alight too." I needn't have said more than "witches"; the crowd had put two and two together as soon as I did.<br>"Which way did they go?"  
>"That way," I pointed down the lane "but you'll never catch them. They left yesterday, and I'm sure their cart was bewitched, it went so fast."<br>_And why didn't you send for help? What were _you_ doing? At least_ Conor _has an excuse. _He _was trapped in a burning building! You were s_l_eeping_,_ and then hiding behind a shed! _The toughest questions to answer are always inside your head.  
>"Well, you can't exactly stay here, can you?" Anna Dowse said "Why don't you two come down to our house, and have something to eat? You must be starving." I nodded, realising just how hungry I was. I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast the day before!<p>

"Thank you very much," I said around mouthfuls of the best bread and honey I had ever tasted, "but we don't want to get in the way. We'll probably be gone by tomorrow anyway, but we can leave tonight if you'd prefer."  
>George laughed "What, and miss dinner by the finest cook in the County? I think that's probably against the law!" Conor was staring at me, eyes wide enough to hit with a bow and arrow.<br>Mrs. Dowse smiled. " I'm not sure about that, but I think you two should at least stay until morning. You never know who-or what- is lurking on those roads after dark. You can sleep in here, by the fire. It won't be very comfortable, I'm afraid, but we've lots of blankets, and I'm sure we have a spare mattress somewhere..." She went off to search.

It was quite a small mattress, but we made do, and the fire and blankets kept us very cosy and warm. I had certainly slept in worse conditions. As we settled down to sleep, I suddenly realised the answer to that important question that had been eluding me. _Why_ hadn't I thought of it before? It was obvious.  
>We would go to Uncle Tom, the spook.<p>

**A/N: Tada! The next chapter will hopefully come soon, to make up for the shortness of this one. R&R please! **


	4. Archbrook

**A/N: Well, thi**s** is the fourth chapter! I never get this far normally! (Don't worry, it's not gonna go downhill from here or anything) Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. It's nice to have an audience! Anyway, enough chat, Here's that disclaimer; I do not own The Wardstone Chronicles, or any of its characters or plots, only what I create in this story. Sorry for not updating sooner, but I got** **about 5 months of Writer's-flippin'-Block.  
>R&amp;R please!<strong>

**Mary's POV**

I woke to that fantastically mouth-watering smell that is a bacon-and-eggs breakfast, and was dressed and sitting at the table before anyone had even noticed I was awake. Conor was already eating, and I stole some bacon off his plate.  
>"That's <em>my <em>bacon!" He yelled, but I'd already swallowed, and I grinned at him as he glared.  
>"Aw, I'm sowwy, Conor, but I'm weeeally hungwy!" I pulled the same face Anna used whenever she got caught stealing someone's dessert. Thinking of her reminded me why we've got to leave today, and I stopped smiling.<br>"Hungry, are we?" Mrs. Dowse smiled, putting a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me. It didn't take long to finish, and soon I was back to staring at Conor's breakfast, which was unfortunately almost gone. He noticed me eyeing his plate, then hunched over it and ate even faster, and soon there was nothing left.  
>"Mrs. Dowse..." I wasn't sure how to broach the subject of leaving for Uncle Tom's house. It was important that we leave early to avoid being on the road when night fell, but I didn't want to sound ungrateful for the Dowses' hospitality.<br>"I...well, I've decided where we can stay, and Conor and I should really be leaving quite soon if we're to get to Archbrook before nightfall."  
>"Have you family there?" Mr. Dowse asked<br>" No, but I doubt we'll reach Chipenden by nightfall, so I thought Archbrook would be a good place to spend the night."  
>"Well, my sister lives there, so you could stay with her, if you want."<br>"Thank you! I'd forgotten about that." I couldn't believe I'd forgotten about where to stay. _Idiot!_ I thought, for the third time in two days. Spending a cold night on the streets of Archbrook would _not_ be enjoyable.  
>"You should leave in about fifteen minutes, then" Mrs Dowse said "I'll just make you some food for the journey, and George can write a note for his sister."<br>All our belongings were still packed into the small bag Mr. Dowse had given us the night before, and we were ready to go before he had even finished writing his letter.  
>"Thank you for letting us stay here, Mr. and Mrs. Dowse." I said as we were leaving. Mr. Dowse smiled.<br>"I'd be a pretty bad friend of your Da's if I left his little 'uns to fend for themselves, now wouldn't I? And you can call us George and Anna, if we see you again."  
>We finally set off, trudging down the side of the road. It felt good to have a sense of purpose, a direction to take, and I should have been happy, but I kept thinking about what George had said. <em>If we see you again.<em> I looked back over my shoulder at our tiny hamlet, the place where i'd barely set foot out of for my whole life, and felt a lump rise in my throat. This was my _home_. Was I ever going to come back?  
>Conor snapped me out of my reverie by pulling me further into the grass verge, just as a soldier on horseback charged past. I glanced at Conor questioningly.<br>"Soldiers are always up to no good." he said. I sighed. He'd been listening to Uncle again.  
>"Come on," I got up, pulling him up with me "And don't let <em>anyone<em> else hear you say that." We resumed the long walk to Archbrook.

We'd arrived at the depressingly dingy town of Archbrook, and just in time too, for the sky was orange with the sunset. The only problem now was...  
>"How are we meant to find George's sister's house in all...this?" Conor muttered. I scrabbled in my pocket, and drew out the piece of paper with the address. George's handwriting was hard to read, but I could just make out the words "number six Cobbler's lane". We'd have to ask directions. I looked around. There were a few people walking up the street, but I couldn't see anyone who looked trustworthy, or able to give reliable directions. Then I noticed someone. He looked out of place here, in his clean, well-kept clothes, but he walked around like he knew where he was going. I hurried over, pulling Conor behind me.<br>"Excuse me, sir," My voice seemed to echo around the street, and he jumped slightly.  
>"Please, could you tell us how to get to..." I checked the paper again, to make sure I'd got it right the first time "Cobblers Lane?" He stared at us for a second, then blinked hard and said "first right at the end of this street, then left, and it's tucked away down on your left again." He rushed off, and we were left standing there in the street, if you could call it that.<br>"You caught most of that, didn't you?" I said, turning to Conor, who had a knack for remembering details. He nodded slowly, then turned and walked down the street, muttering "left at the end of the street...or was it right?"  
>As it happened, the question was answered for us. It seemed that at one time there <em>had<em> been a left turn, but now it was blocked by an overturned cart. We turned right, then left, and eventually found the tiny gap in the wall that was hardly big enough for the sign that read "Cobbler's lane", never mind the row of houses that we found squeezed in at the end. Number six cobbler's lane was a very small, immaculately whitewashed house that looked as out of place here as the man who'd given us directions, and lo and behold, he was the one who opened the door when I knocked.  
>"Um, hello," I said, while he stared at us "We're here to see...George Dowse's sister? I have a letter from him asking if we can spend the night here."<br>"Lucy!" the man turned and called into the house."_Lucy!_" Silence. "Oh well, I'll just see that letter instead. I _am_ her husband..._Lucy!" _he sighed "Why do I bother?"  
>I handed him the letter, and, reading it, he ushered us into the house."You can sleep in here, dinner is really only a possibility, I'm afraid, and if Lucy's up early tomorrow, you just might have a chance of breakfast...<em>Lucy!<em>" he hurried off, obviously used to silence from his wife.  
>"Looks like we'll have an early night." I said, lying down on the blankets spread across the floor. This was an odd place, and I couldn't wait to set off again tomorrow. Frankly, I wished we could have skipped Archbrook altogether, and been in Uncle Tom's house by now, but at least we'd be there tomorrow night, with a proper dinner and everything. My stomach rumbled.<br>I fell asleep soon enough, and dreamed of warm beds and the best dinners in the world.

**A/N Sorry for the hold-up, but they _will_ be in Tom's house next chapter, I swear!**


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